


Marked

by CheshireCaine



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crack, Established Relationship, Flirting, Humor, Humorous Ending, M/M, One Shot, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshireCaine/pseuds/CheshireCaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Tim shook with restrained outrage in Jason's arms, which were still twined around him. "It's not that funny, Dick!"</i><br/><br/>Getting injuries is all in a night's work for one of Gotham's heroes, until Tim's soul-mark starts appearing all over his body. And of course, that's when everybody else feels the need to turn up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marked

**Author's Note:**

> Slight-OOC and crack warning. I was planning on making this a drabble, but the hunger was insatiable.
> 
> Soulmates AU: http://cheshirecaine.tumblr.com/post/111296915789/new-soul-mates-au-i-hope  
> Soul-marks reappear in a new place, except a character, who happens to be immortal/have regenerative powers/frequently injured is covered in them because their body doesn’t quite process that they’ve recovered.

"This isn't funny, Jason!"

"It kinda is, baby bird."

Tim glared at him, venom spitting from his eyes.

The corners of Jason's mouth twitched upward the slightest bit.

Tim's eyes narrowed.

Jason burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Tim, but you look adorable when you're pouting."

"P—? I'm not pouting!"

"Sure, and I'm Alfred's love-child."

Tim's face contorted in a revolted expression—one so beggaring description it would take Jason six months to find the words—before he thrashed his arms and started screeching again. "But, Jason, I'm covered in them."

"I can live with that."

Tim crossed his arms and twisted around to face the bathroom mirror. "That's just 'cause you're a possessive bastard," he said, his point proven when Jason hugged him from behind.

"Yeah, well, you're something worth being possessive about."

Tim's cheeks burned red.

"And when you curse," rumbled Jason. "Well, I . . ."

"You—?"

"As much as I love hearing you two flirt," said Dick, announcing his sudden presence in their home. "I was hoping you would stop so I could—" His voice trailed off in a telling silence. The apartment remained quiet but for the wind whistling through and rustling some papers.

That is until Dick leaned against the door and started convulsing with hysterical, almost unhinged, laughter.

Tim shook with restrained outrage in Jason's arms, which were still twined around him. "It's not that funny, Dick!" His protest just made the man laugh harder and sink to his knees when his legs gave up on him.

Dick wheezed words between chortles with what little breath he had: "Not. Fun—ny? Your. Soul—mark's. Vis—i—ble. On. Ev—ery. Inch. Of. Your. Bo—dy."

"That's—!"

"Grayson, what are you doing here?" questioned Damian, as he climbed inside the window left open in the living room. "You said you would spar with me today." He stopped, the only sounds left being that of Dick's unending laughter and the wind buffeting the curtains.

". . . Tt. Only you could accomplish something so ludicrous as this, Drake."

"What do you mean by—?"

"Detective," murmured the television.

Everybody's heads swung around to look at it in shock.

"I see you have arrived at quite a predicament"—Two ninjas stepped in through the window, each carrying a dark, wooden box, containing a tube of cream deposited in velvet—"So I have arranged for you to receive some salves that should rid you of those blemishes."

"Grandfath—!"

Tim raised a hand, asking for silence. He then walked over to the TV and pressed the power button. It turned back on.

"I do hope you would cease to—"

Tim yanked out the wires from the screen. And walked back into Jason's embrace.

The taller ninja held out a mobile phone and Ra's continued. "That was a little rude of you, Detective."

"Oh, really? _I_ was being—"

Barbara walked in through the front door. "Tim, I got the intel you wanted on—"

Everybody waited for her to laugh, but she didn't. ". . . What? Am I wrong in assuming that he got those marks because his injuries damaged his first one?"

"No," said Tim, lifting his hands in unburdened thanks, and pinching the space between his eyes.

"Tim."

"I'm guessing you feel better now, Dick."

"I'd say sorry about that, but you should really be more focussed on telling Bruce about you two."

Tim raised his head in realisation.

"There's no way you're gonna be able to hide those marks out of costume," agreed Barbara.

"Having a bird, whose tail feathers form the word 'Jay', plastered on your skin is something of a give-away, Drake."

Jason and Tim looked at each other.

"Shit."


End file.
